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 Mar 2017 hellopoet
JC Lucas
Light killed night so I rose and rolled over
shaved and showered
then stood before the blinds-drawn-back
freshly foggy glass
I traced the outline of the ridgeline
of the mountains outside with my finger
in the condensation,
sat and watched the light bounce off the snow
til the misty glass dried
and suddenly all the details were clear
tufts of green
tusks of brown
standing up through the crusted-over ice
and crystalline facets of cliff-face
bits and bobs, anyway, of color on a fresh canvas
and all still
til I spied a couple specks
-and squinted-
not just spots now, but bodies on stilts
(four apiece)
and a ***** crown on the one.
Goats!
yes, mountain goats,
male and female,
traversing the treachery
in spite of it all-
though I could feel they had none,
not an ounce of spite between them
no!
not in spite, but in tandem
with the elements,
the terrain,
with each other.
The conditions aren't adverse,
I realized,
they're ideal.

here is here,
now is now,
and you're a little speck,
just like me,
just like mountain goats,
just swimming through it all
with grace
and tact
and majesty.
 Mar 2017 hellopoet
JC Lucas
Conifer-covered hillside
in the hinterlands
of this sleepy town
on a warm day
in this mid-June

The unspoilt soil
neither grieves
nor revels
and there's no revelation in that-
just what you see.

It's just what you see.

The quivering quakeys
can't hack it even when they cackle-
an attempt to unravel the shackles of
their incomplete alchemy-
cause it's never enough

one laugh is never enough.

The high's always flanked
by a sunrise so rank
as to wrinkle the brows
of the loudest and proudest-
the laughers and criers, or livers and die-rs

Just give me the bliss of the birds
and a big lidless urn to retire my fire
when the work week expires
when I finally can see even truth holds some lies
and when the sun sets too low to appraise the horizon,
I'll fly.

I'll just fly.
 Mar 2017 hellopoet
Pedro Garcia
***** white cap, once pristinely perfect but carelessly soiled by ignorant hands
chipping green walls, a gentle calming color breaking away piece by piece to flaunt its original ugly palette
Socks with holes, big and small, taken for granted and willingly allowed to continue in poor shape
generously filled bottles of cologne, unused and untouched, a dream presentability accompanied by aroma shattered by melancholy indifference
empty soda cans, an adoration for sweet sensation followed by a bittersweet regret in rotten yellowed teeth
grease stained shirts, a consequence of gluttonous irresponsibility as well as a tragic reminder of one's forgotten delicate care
wrinkled oxford shirts and lost pairs of cufflinks, to lose touch with formalities and absorb a lifestyle without need to dress with pride
this house has no coasters, tables are decorated with ring stains interlocking, each one the same short story: "whoops"
once glimmering and shining silver, tarnished and neglected, now shine dully whilst sitting idly untouched
hair is a tangled mess, face is chaotically barbaric, body is an instrument out of tune, a person whose had a falling out with biological pleasantries
where the ambition to improve becomes absent, an abysmal house suffers and low ambition discourages change of mindset
a ***** mirror, in it the reflection of a stranger, eyes with no spark and an empty expression
frankly, it would appear its visage happier than mine, our faces and our surroundings look the same but the cloud that looms over me cannot be reflected
Depression affects a person more than just mentally, digging yourself into a hole is easy, digging yourself out is not.
the look at only me syndrome
is best characterized this way
everyone's attention must be
focused on the fab one's ray*

his or hers motto you'll recognize
it reads don't stop looking
keep the eyes trained only
on the super one's booking

avert not your gaze from me
for me is the most brill to see
you'll see that in every view
your pupils will ever see

look at me
ain't me a striking sight to
see
look at me
you'd just have to
*agree
 Mar 2017 hellopoet
MARK RIORDAN
ITS WORLD POETRY DAY OUR
POETIC VOICE WILL BE HEARD
CHANGING OUR BEAUTIFUL WORLD
WITH EVERY RHYMING WORD


OUR SOUL AND OUR THOUGHTS
WILL DESCRIBE WHAT WE SEE
OUR THOUGHTS OUR POETRY
OUR VOICE WILL BE FREE


WE LOVE THIS BEAUTIFUL WORLD
AND THROUGH OUR POETRY YOU WILL SEE
WE WILL BRING MANKIND TOGETHER
AND OUR HEARTS WILL BE FREE
ANOTHER POEM FOR THE CELETRATIONS
sing the words
of love's
touching bower
sing the words
of love's
emotive power

sing the words
sing them
to
the
soul's
core
sing the words
sing them
till
the
forevermore

the strains deep
of plenty's well
so timeless the sound
inside its bell

sing the words
of love's
textural tone
sing the words
of love's
feeling zone

embrace the accord
of love's tempo
a oneness to the
song's combo

sing the words
sing them
in
a
melodic
catch
sing the words
sing them
expressing
a
heart's
thatch

sing the words
of love's
touching bower
sing the words
of love's
emotive power
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